


Leadership and Surrender

by courgette96



Series: Of service and loyalty (and those we give it to) [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Developing Relationship, Evil Space Boyfriends, Hurt/Comfort, Hux doesn't know how to deal with feelings., M/M, Power Kink, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 15:07:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6120397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/courgette96/pseuds/courgette96
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux enjoys power. He enjoys having his once rival kneel before him. He may even enjoy Ren's body beneath him, and there is nothing wrong with that so long as he remains in control.</p><p>Hux is always in control, until the day he isn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leadership and Surrender

**Author's Note:**

> No beta, all mistakes are mine.
> 
> Part 2 of the "Of service and loyalty" series. Although you don't *need* to read the first part, I suggest you do, if only for the events and thoughts to have more context.

Any leader owes their success to the quality of their own mind. Ressources, connections, physical aptitude, all those can be bought or won, borrowed or stolen. The mind is the true core of man ; the man is what differentiates the rulers from the subjects.

Hux knows this, and knows this well. His mind is the greatest weapon he owns. And like any weapon of power, he polishes, wields it carefully, and regularly looks it over for any flaw or imperfection. 

There are none. He has worked long years on making sure of it. He had been so very young when he had started. 

As a general rule, he does not spend too much time dwelling on his past. It is a largely useless endeavor, and not enjoyable enough to be a part of the frivolities he sometimes allows himself. However, there is one memory he holds on to, if only symbolically. 

An eight year old child sitting at a long dining table, made of thick and solid wood and carved in opulent designs. A beautiful, luxurious object, so completely at odds with the much more modest, nearing decrepit surroundings. A remnant of a time before the fall of the Empire.

There are a few such items in his house: a silk blanket ; a golden brooch ; a pearl necklace his mother wore out of sheer stubbornness, despite there being so few people to show it off to. A heteroclite collection of anything that had been saved, by chance or by design, from the previous Hux household, which had been much grander, much more to the taste of his parents.

Sometimes, young Brendol would wonder if it wouldn’t have been better to get rid off it. The memorabilia of times past only seemed to feed the bitterness in his parents, which was so great already, for all they had lost.

Brendol Hux the first once had power in his own right, and had married Hux’s mother for her money and beauty rather than her rank. When young Mairen had been asked in marriage by such a prominent member of the Empire, she had taken no time to accept. There had been no love between the two, but a mutual agreement, and an amicable relationship founded on equal gain on both sides. 

Until the fall of the Empire, of course, after which his father ended up being the most unfortunate of the two: he had lost everything ; Lady Hux, at the very least, still had her beauty. 

And in his memory there they sit at the much too opulent table, stewing in their resentment, mind perpetually mulling over past glory and assigned blame. Ugly emotions that clung to them like thick mud, and paralyzing them just as effectively. Two decades inaction, only ended when Hux had need of them upon graduating from the Academy.

He keeps that memory as a reminder. His parents had been great once, until they allowed their mind to collapse under the weight of their own bitterness. He will not make such a mistake.

And that is why he reserves for himself these quiet moments in the evening, looking over his most vital weapon. Looking over memories and knowledge, carefully examining their relevance and use. 

Which of these is important? Which of these hinder him? What does he save? What does he dismiss?

Useless sentiment is done away with. Knowledge is both broadened and focused. He doesn’t linger on that which serves no purpose. 

His mind is efficient. It is through that that he gains superiority.

With his eyes closed, he looks contemplates what his memories offer.

 _A report from Lt. Mitaka regarding skirmishes in the outer region._ Save. Although the incident was easily contained, it is the fourth that year. That area needs to be surveilled in order to insure it doesn’t distract from the main battle.

 _An account on the spendings of the Finalizer._ Dismiss. Hux had looked over it once to insure nothing was amiss. There had been no issue. No need to keep it. 

_Update on the Starkiller operation._ Save, of course. 

_Kylo Ren on his knees, shame and anticipation on his face as he looks up to him, melting into lust as Hux cups his pale cheek with his gloves hand, lips parted open..._ Save. To be looked over again, and relished. Right now.

Brendol Hux is not without his frivolities. 

 

*

 

It is surprising how little things have changed. On the outside, at least.

Hux and Ren still do their duties as decided by the Supreme Leader. They still meet before Lord Snoke once a week to report progress. They still disagree publicly, and if anyone notices a diminution in the frequency of their clashes, they will just chalk it up to the two of them having found at least something they agree on. 

And oh, how right they are! 

He has Kylo Ren’s loyalty. The thought alone still stuns him, although it has been well over a month since Ren bent the knee before him, and fills him with an uncharacteristic guidiness, though he will not admit it out loud.

He had thought about it a few times, having Ren join his cause, but it had been a distant sort of musing. To have a Force user on his side would be a great advantage if he is to overthrow Snoke, but Kylo Ren has always had the fervent fanaticism of a convert, and Hux had known he would never be able to have any place in his religion.

He hadn’t expected, hadn’t known that Ren’s devoutness was offered not only to the Force, but to the First Order as well. More so, in fact, if he would betray Snoke as he has. 

Which leads him back to the thought of Ren on his knees, and the naked longing that had been on his face as he looked up to him.

Hux had always believed him stand-offish, filled with a not-so-quiet contempt for all those deaf to the Force. A desire to prove his superiority because he truly believes himself superior. And in Hux’s defense, it had been partially true. But it seems that mask held some use after all, because it somehow concealed from his the truth: Kylo Ren, at his core, is so very _needy._

And it is _delicious._

Hux had known such sweetness on that very first night, when he had gazed on that nearly blissed-out face as he stroked it with a gloved hand, and in that moment he knew all he had gained, all he could achieve, and the power had been so new and so heady that he couldn’t help but test exactly how far it went.

“Return to your quarters,” he had ordered, abruptly withdrawing his hand and stepping back. “I will contact you with further instructions.”

And Ren did as he was told. Reluctantly, almost heart-broken from what he most likely viewed as an anti climax, but he had gotten up, had picked up his helmet and had left, pausing for one last look towards Hux and starting to walk again only after receiving a nod from the General.

Hux spent the rest of the night ignoring his aching hard cock.

That little power-play had been a one time occurrence, an indulgence to himself to celebrate such a massive conquest. Hux is very careful with his things, more than Snoke has ever been, and he will cultivate such loyalty instead of wearing it down by constantly putting it to the test.

Power given is sweeter than power taken, especially when it comes to one Force user who has been the source of his headaches of so long, undisciplined, unrefined, childish and now _his._

Kylo Ren is his. His man, his own secret weapon, and where he a less controlled man, he would laugh at the Supreme Leader’s face whenever he stands before him. 

But he does not, for he is no fool. He meets the Supreme Leader with the same respect and deference, obeys orders and bides his time.

But before entering in the antechamber that leads to the hologram room, he will meet Ren. Their eyes will meet even through the dark, menacing mask, and they will both stand tall and proud.

“General,” Kylo Ren will say first, because he always greets him first.

“Lord Ren,” Hux will reply, with the cold formality he is so known for, because by all appearances nothing has changed. 

Their greetings will hang in the air between them, filled with unspoken promises and renewed vows. If Ren is feeling bold, he will project thoughts within his mind. If Hux is in a good mood, he will reply out loud, and though his mouth never twitches there will be a smile in Hux’s eyes, and he will know that Ren’s will as well.

And then they will walk in the room to face the man they both intend to kill one day.

 

*

 

A simple fact Hux knows: his subordinates fear him.

Of course, it isn’t a debilitating kind of fear, or even one that is particularly prevalent - he isn’t an amateur, or an incompetent fool. His subordinated respect him first, admire him second, and that is how he has their loyalty.

But they fear him as well. Perhaps it is his cold demeanor. Perhaps it is his age - a general barely over thirty years old, how ruthless must he be to have reached this position so young? Perhaps it is simply his position of power.

Hux believes that last one to be true. After all, incompetence will be punished, disloyalty more so, and if everyone in this ship answers to him then it means that he has power over everyone here. It means that they everything they do is by his leave.

Considering that, of course they fear him. They would be fools not to.

Hux doesn’t mind.

Fear is what separates subordinates from equals. 

 

*

 

Ren is training in Gymnasium 3-F4. Seeing as that is a public arena usually reserved for Stormtroopers, and that Ren has his own private facilities he ought to be using instead, Hux feels completely justified in going to watch. Just in case. Besides, he is off-duty as of thirty minutes ago.

The Gymnasium in question has an observation box reserved for officers, should they wish to witness the Stormtrooper’s training. (Few do, in truth, but the option is still offered to the most conscientious-minded.) Hux settles down in the front row, looking down through the transparisteel to where Ren stands alone. Without his mask on, and Hux hopes for his sake that he thought of locking the door before beginning.

He is pleasantly surprised to see that the training droids are all still in one piece. In fact, they do not seem to have been used at all. Instead, Ren is using a long metal bar as a training tool. It is about the same size as his lightsaber, though Hux would guess it to be much heavier. 

He doesn’t know much about lightsaber technique, but from what Hux can tell Ren is performing well enough. His balance could use some work, and he still looks entirely too open. He had made that comment once in the past, only to be haughtily informed that the techniques used were focused on offense, that _of course_ there is no defensive stance because this is _Form VII,_ also known as Vaapad you Force-blind ignorant and Hux had stopped listening afterwards.

There is no reason he should be here - either of them, really, but Hux even less than Ren, because at least Ren has some justification as to what he is doing here. Hux is just watching as Ren flexes and hits, as strong as expected but much more limber. His training outfit is both form-fitting and short-sleeved, displaying every muscle as they go through Ren’s drills. And the more Hux watches, the more he thinks that yes, it is all very nice, except Ren’s stance is far too open, completely unbalanced and -

Entirely designed so that Hux has a full view of each moment. 

Ren glances up, looking straight at the observation box, and Hux’s suspicions are confirmed.

Ren is showing off. 

Hux doesn’t know if he is only reacting to his presence, or if Ren chose this room to train in in the hopes that Hux could come to watch, but whatever the case this is no longer a training session. It is a performance.

The realization startles a laugh out of him. He wants to call the entire display pathetic, would chalk it up to Ren’s desperate need for praise. He cannot bring himself to though.

There is a playfulness in Ren’s glance that tell Hux he is, for lack of a better phrasing, in on the joke. Or maybe it is an attempt at enticing him, both the gaze and now suspicious short-sleeves, and, well… Hux would be lying if he said it were entirely ineffective. 

So, in short: neither of them can pretend to be aloof in this situation.

It is a tie, and considering that, Hux is more than comfortable sitting back and enjoying the show. 

*

 

It is not uncommon for officers to dine together. It is less common for it to be done in their private quarters, but Hux and Ren are as high on the ladder as one can be, the only ones with the clearance to speak directly to the Supreme Leader, so it is to be expected that they would seek the utmost privacy for what they wish to discuss.

The lower ranking officers are probably thinking something along those lines. Hux, for his part, can only think about how surprisingly well-mannered Ren is at the dinner table. Not that Hux had expected anything brutish or repulsive, but there is a rather outstanding amount of protocol in the way Ren uses his silverware and glass, the kind Hux has learned from his parents and then again at the academy. The kind he still applies, because excellence comes from perfecting even the smallest details.

It seems being raised by a former princess has its consequences. That, or Ren is trying to impress him. 

The thought brings a smile to his lips.

“Do I amuse you, General?” Without the voice modulator, Ren cannot manage indifference quite as well, although he does present a valiant effort here. Ever since he has gotten in the habit of removing his mask in Hux’s presence, he has gotten much better at control his expression.

Not that that is saying much, considering where he started from. 

“No more than usual.” Hux drawls

Ren’s lips purse together. “That is hardly a denial.”

“Do you think yourself amusing?” Hux challenges, leaning back in his seat. The meal is mostly, both men now sipping on some Corillian nectar in the late evening - Ren’s favorite liquor, as it turns out. An extremely sweet beverage, usually sickeningly so; the only reason Hux can bear to drink it now is through his many efforts to find a brew he tolerate. He cannot decide if the Knight’s tastes in alcohol is uncharacteristic or wholly expected. 

“Less than you do, leading the conversation in circles.” The accusation is lacking heat, mostly filled with an exasperation that is most ironic: out of the two of them, Hux is not the one who consistently tested the other’s patience. “Another frivolity of yours?”

“You wish to go straight to business?” Hux asks, deflecting the question. “How… uncharacteristic.”

“You wish to waist time? How uncharacteristic.”

Hux snorts. “Point taken. To business, then.” He sets his glass down, leaning forward once more. “Let’s begin with the Supreme Leader.”

Ren stiffens. “What about him?”

The General represses a sigh. He had expected the Knight to become defensive when talking about his former master. In many aspects, he cannot fault him for it. “He will be difficult to take down, but no more so than if he sees us coming. That is why we need to take him down first.”

“You cannot.”

The words are cold and clear, filled with an aggressive sort of certainty that makes Hux weary to the bone. 

Of course it can be done. Every dictator, every powerful figure in the history has died at some point, most of them violently, and if the Emperor and Vader could meet their end by the hands of a barely trained boy from a deserted planet, surely two trained and skilled officers with resources behind them can manage. 

That is the jist of what he wished to say to Ren. Instead, he just raises an eyebrow and aks in his best polite tone, “No?”

Ren senses his dubiousness, which is just a polite word for his outright certainty that he is wrong. However, instead of getting more defensive, his voice takes on an urgency that Hux isn’t “The Supreme Leader… he is strong, the strongest man alive. He has lived for centuries, has seen the truth of the Force in a way no man has before or since.” He shakes his head as if to clear his own thoughts, and when he speaks again he punctuates every word. “He cannot be defeated!”

“Is that what he made you believe?”

“I have _seen_ it!” the Knight snaps back. His fists bang against the table as he does, sending the crystal tumbler glass near it falling to the ground. It crashes in a shower of shards, some of them hitting the General’s legs from under the table.

The sound seems to echo in the room long after the crystal shards have come to a stop, though it is more due to the silence that settled afterwards than the actual volume of the break. Despite the silence that now follows though, the shattering of that glass did an effective job at killing the rising tension ; Kylo Ren has the decency to look sheepish as Hux just gives him a _look._

“At fifteen, after a crisis, in a dark cave,” the General starts speaking again, voice flat. “Forgive me if I doubt your assessment. Moreover, if he were so powerful, he wouldn’t need either of us.”

Ren swallows. “He is not weak.”

“I never said he was,” Hux agrees. “I just said he was defeatable.”

“But you don’t know how,” Ren argues back. His entire demeanor is much calmer now, giving his arguments much more weight. “Not really. You have no idea of his power, no idea what he is capable of. I do ; I lived it. And I am telling you, Hux, _you cannot just walk up and defeat him._ ”

Hux actually pauses, considering the words. “Certainly, we cannot save him for last? If he sees us coming, he’ll end us.”

“We need to destroy him swiftly. Take down his fortress, his army, all in one go. Distract him and weaken him all at once, and then we have a chance.”The words are mumbled more than anything else, as he is obviously thinking out loud at this point. “The Knights of Ren will not follow me unless they believe in my victory. The Stormtroopers are conditioned to be loyal to the First Order itself, but they will still recoil at the idea of rebelling against the Supreme Leader.”

“That last can be fixed: I am in charge of the program, I can assign reconditioning as I will. And perhaps mending the second issue will help with the first?”

Ren frowns, his thick lips pinching together as he ponders the words. Thoughtfulness is an odd look on him, his features much more suited to evident and intense bouts of emotions. Still, like most thing about Ren, it is an oddness that is compelling. It takes Hux a while to realise he had simply been watching Ren think, and had been perfectly content doing so. 

“Perhaps,” he says finally. “I will need to think about this.”

Hux startles at that. “Think?” he half-demands, half sneers. “And here I thought you were devoted.”

“About how to bring down Snoke. My allegiances have changed, but I still hold what I said before: you know _nothing_ of the Force. I do. And I am telling you: Snoke is powerful.” The Knight leans forward. “Even if I could take him on, all it would take is me being in the same system as him for him to have a free access to my mind. And tell me, _General,_ how will we win without the element of surprise?”

“And he cannot read your mind now?”

“I am at least _somewhat_ trained,” Ren answers with a cynical smile. He adds nothing more, content to merely watch the General until he gets an answer.

Hux closes his eyes, and huffs. “Fine. I am deferring to your expertise.” The words leave a bitter taste in his mouth, and it takes a certain amount of effort not to sneer. He has always been involved in every detail of any operation he leads, and this one is more important than any before. To give up even part of his control makes is nearly repulsive to him ; however, he will be damned if he lets himself get in his own way. “Can I at least hope to be involved in your reflexion?”

“Don’t be petty, General,” Ren chides, and for the first time in over a month, he gives Hux the smug smirk that never failed to infuriate him. It still doesn’t, although this time his outrage is muted by the Knight’s general cooperation these past few weeks. 

That smugness is short-lived as Ren shift back to his sullen seriousness once more. “You are the one who will make the decision, of course. But perhaps I can present some options for you to choose from.”

“You will educate me about the ways of the Force.”

“You are not Force-sensitive, General, I cannot-”

“You don’t say?” Hux cuts him off. “I didn’t mean teach me how to use it. Maker knows, I wouldn’t want any part of it even if I could. But I require complete knowledge of any weapon I use, and I will allow no exception to that rule.”

“I will do my best.”

“Good.” He sits back down, resisting the urge to pinch his brow. “We’ll continue this discussion later on. There is little point in trying to decide everything now.”

Ren glances at the door. “Is that my cue to leave, General?”

It could be, Hux reflects. They have discussed their business, or at least part of it, and there is no true need for Ren to remain. And yet. 

Dark eyes look at him expectantly, and Hux thinks of those same eyes closing as he strokes a pale white cheek, of those eyes looking at him as the Knight goes through all his forms, of the tone body he saw then and just how _needy_ Ren is.

He thinks of all that, and decides he has waited long enough.

“No,” he says sharply, eyes suddenly boring into Ren’s. The Knight stiffens, sensing the change in Hux’s demeanor. His eyes widen ever so slightly, even as the General’s face remains impassive.

“Stand up,” Hux orders calmly, imbued with certainty that the Knight will obey.

He does, of course, rising in an almost clumsy motion as he walks towards the center of the room. Hux watches him, spinning his chair as he does so that he faces Ren when he speaks.

“Our dinner did not go smoothly. We argued, you threw a tantrum. My belongings are quite trashed as a result.”

“How unfortunate,” Ren says with a smirk, but his eyes betray his eagerness. “Will you be revoking privilege?”

“Fortunately, I have more patience than you. Though we did have a long argument after you destroyed everything.”

Ren rolls his eyes, his mouth an odd twist between a smirk and a pout. He doesn’t deny it though, which more evidence in favor of a certain self-awareness hidden underneath all the overwhelming emotivity. 

“What are you waiting for?” Hux asks with a tilt of his head when the Knight remains motionless. It is all it takes to spur Ren into action. 

It is different, watching Ren swing his light-saber. Much more controlled in his movements than he is on the battlefield, much more violent than when he is doing his drills. The red light barely glows at all, but it still casts a hue over his face, coloring pale skin but drowning in jet black hair. 

The Force coils around him, so strong that even Hux can feel it ; it makes the air thicker, almost difficult to breathe. It is only when he feels a woosh of air upon his tongue that Hux realizes his mouth has parted open. He closes it quickly, just in time to see Ren slam his saber against the last remaining chair.

His quarters are thoroughly ruined, but it is a small price to pay to see Ren’s standing among the wreckage, lightsaber still glowing, breathing heavily for reasons that have little to do with physical exertion. It is a small price to pay to see such a display of power, solely because he commanded it, and to know that there is so much he could command this man to do.

Ren turns to face him, cheeks flushed and expression eager ; his eyes widen when he sees Hux, still sitting on his chair as if it were a throne.

The General’s cock is straining against his standard uniform pants. Hux can feel his hardness pressing against the fabric, growing with each second Ren looks at it with his wide eyes filled with shock and flattery and want, and when Hux parts his legs open even more that pink tongue comes to brush against those thick lips, and Ren doesn’t even seem to notice.

Hux chuckles, standing up. Ren startles out of his revery, embarrassment adding itself to his flush. He looks like he is holding his breath as he looks at Hux.

“I have done as you asked,” the Knight says stupidly, sounding as if all the air in his lungs has gone. His eyes dart from Hux’s eyes to his lips, and back again, his lips part open in a silent sigh. 

Needy, so very needy.

“Indeed you have,” the General agrees, still smiling as he steps closer and closer until he is but inches away from Ren. The Knight is taller, but barely, and there is a passivity to his demeanor that almost makes it seem as if Hux is looming over him.

“As you ordered, really,” Ren croaks out, his tongue peeking out to lick his lips - and what lovely lips they are, so thick and always so soft-looking. Hux doesn’t know if he wants to stroke them or bite them till they bleed.

“And you have done it so well,” he purrs in return, a grin stretching his face slowly. It feels like hunger, and desire, and and power when Ren’s pupils widen at the sight, or at the words, his face flushing even more. 

His hand sneaks forward, making its way through thick and unwieldy robes until he feels the bulge he had been looking for. So big in his hands, so heavy as he cups it.

But those are all accessory contemplations, because Ren will never be allowed to fuck Hux, will only ever be stuffed until he all he can feel is cock, and Hux will make him beg and plead, and there will be no mistake as to who holds the power. Hux will never give up his authority, not even an atom of it, and Ren will just have to submit and take it.

Ren closes his eyes, groans, and his knees buckle to the point where he has to hold onto the General, because there is nothing to hold onto to. Gloved hands come to grip the front of his vest, the much large body nearly collapsing against him.

He must have read his mind, Hux thinks distantly, that is the only way explanation as to why he reacts that way. Hux has half in mind to chide him for it, maybe get angry, but the feel of those strong arms just holding onto him for dear life is just too glorious for words. 

He can feel his grin go hungry, knows himself to look like a shark, but also knowing Ren doesn’t mind one bit as one of the General’s hands comes to fist into his hair, the other one going to rest on his lower back, offering support the Knight so needs right now.

“So needy, Ren,” he teases, fingers tightening in his hair.

“Yes,” Ren hisses in return, eyes closing, teeth coming to bite his lips as he arches his head back, exposing his neck even further.

If Hux still had any intention to back away up until that point, well, they would have vanished immediately. 

And why not, he tells himself as he pulls Ren’s head towards his. They are both willing, and eager. And Hux has been wondering for far too long how Ren’s lips would feel against his. 

It is the most logical course of action. Resource maintenance, he tells himself as he pulls Ren towards his chambers. Nothing more.

 

*

 

 _Starkiller base almost fully operational, final checkups remain before green light._ Save. Keep track of every final verification as they occur.

 _Captain Phasma has had difficulty with Stormtroopers VN-0124 through VN-0135, the result of a skirmish during training that got out of hand._ Dismiss. Phasma is more than competent enough to deal with this on her own.

_Against all odds, Ren does not enjoy pain, though he will bear it willingly if Hux asks it of him. But to truly make him fall apart, all he needs are strong arms holding him down, soft hands caressing his skin, “Good boy”, “Stay still”, and when he comes he does so silently, lips parted in a silent scream and eyes filled with shock and bliss and wonder._

Save. 

 

*

 

“No, no!” Ren groans, waving his hands as he protests to accentuate just how wrong he believes Hux to be. “The Force is not technology, stop trying to discuss it like one!”

From his seat in the armchair, Hux finds the entire display extremely amusing. Ren had been seated before him at the beginning of the conversation, but has long since gotten up to pace as he talks. It is a good thing he isn’t wearing his robe, otherwise he would have tripped on it by now. 

“But the comparison is somewhat accurate, is it not?” Hux presses, just for the pleasure of seeing Ren’s frustration rise. “You use the Force like a comlink. A dreadfully imprecise, vague comlink.”

“You don’t need a com number to use the Force,” the Knight says haughtily. “And besides, it is barely like talking at all. It’s not a voice you perceive, it is an entire aura.”

“Like Snoke.”

The mention of the Supreme Leader makes Ren grow somber. It could be his lingering fear of the man, or simply a healthy sense of deference concerning such a serious matter. He stops his pacing, turning back towards Hux. “Yes… Although even then he cannot do too much. We could talk through the Force, if he wishes, although at this distance even that would require some effort on both our part.”

“Hence the ample use of holocom instead.”

“Yes.” Ren’s voice turns reassuring. “I told you, he cannot read my mind. He would need to be in the same room as me for that.”

“I’m not worried.” It’s true. Although his is weary of Snoke’s capabilities, he trusts Ren’s assessment of the situation. Besides, if the Supreme Leader had any knowledge of the plan, he would have acted by now. It is that certainty that allows him to lean back in his chair and smirk with no small amount of light-heartedness. “I’m merely happy to know that there is nothing the Force does that cannot be done by basic tech.”

“You…!” Ren begins, before snapping his mouth shut. He looks so _affronted_ it takes Hux all he has not to start laughing. The Knight closes his eyes, exhaling through his nose loudly. “That isn’t true, and you know it.”

“Oh but Ren,” Hux croons, mimicking the haughty tone he has heard hundred of times, “ _I know nothing of the true ways of the Force!_ ”

He feels it coming even before Ren moves. The Force gathers around him, like static electricity all along his skin. Ren must be fairly aggravated if he goes through the effort of making Hux sense it, using more of it than necessary just so that the General doesn’t miss a moment of that display.

Then he feels the chair rising from the ground, and he is brutally tugged forward, body leaving his seat for a moment as he goes flying towards Ren, who stands with his arm raised in front of him. 

He stops moving just as suddenly as he started, staying static in the air as the chair falls behind him in a dull thud. Hux remains floating for a while, the uncomfortable sensation of not touching the ground tempered by the feeling of being _held._

Ren has dragged many like this before, usually to their an unhappy fate. Hux is certain that Ren will not hurt him though: Ren’s pride is hurt, but he isn’t enraged. This little display won’t end in Hux being choked by an invisible force. It is why he doesn’t berate Ren when he sets Hux back down. He was never in danger.

There is also the fact that his cock is hard. 

It almost always is when he feels Ren using the Force, when he gets a demonstration of just how powerful his Knight is. This could be a problem in future situations, one Hux is more than happy to solve by acclimatation. By all accounts, Ren is happy to comply with that plan. 

“Was that supposed to be a demonstration?” he asks, not quite managing to keep the breathlessness out of his voice.

Ren’s eyes have narrowed on Hux’s erection, and being a ridiculous man he is scowling at it. “I am beginning to believe you don’t care about learning about the Force.” 

“What ever gave you that expression?”

“You are barely even listening,” the Knight mumbles petulantly, still so very childish at times. 

“Oh Ren, did I hurt your feelings?” Hux croons, stepping forward so that he is inches away from his face. He leans forward, placing his lips just against the shell “Shall I make it up to you, you clever boy?”

Ren’s face flushes both at the innuendo and the compliment despite the condescension within them. His lips parts open, he swallows heavily and Hux knows he has him, is already picturing the two of them in his bed. He is developing a dangerous taste for those activities, but it is alright because Ren will _always_ provide.

And then Ren’s pulls away, reluctantly but full of resolve. He looks at Hux, deliberately squaring his shoulders and straightening his spine. “No.”

With that he grabs his helmet and goes to the door, throwing Hux one last mournful yet victorious look before putting his mask back on walking away.

Hux stares at the closed doors for a good ten seconds before dissolving into peals of laughter.

 

*

 

When he was still a young officer, Hux had believed that going up in rank would mean leaving behind all the annoying pests he was forced to call his peers.

How wrong he’d been.

Though they are his peers no more, they are still pests. Still stewing in their resentment and jealousy - much like his parents, in that regard, and Hux barely had any patience for them in the first place - and determined to undermine him at any turn. 

It would be pathetic, it if weren’t so regularly infuriating. 

Nowhere is that more true than with Jorm Tarkin, grandson of the once Grand Moff, with none of the competence or even the charisma. He has the name though, and that gives him enough weight to slow down the construction of Starkiller.

 _I advise against relying on a machine which effectiveness has yet to be proven,_ says the report in Hux’s hands, written by a weak little man from the comfort of his desk position on Rabaan. 

Hux has half in mind to blow up that planet to prove just how effective Starkiller will be.

“You will still have to wait a month for that.”

Hux closes his eyes to compose himself. It is unwise to face Ren with his patience so frayed. Even if the Knight should know better than to enter his quarters without any sort of excuse or pretext, something he has been doing more and more often as of late. Such familiarity is bound to be noticed at some point, and even the most loyal soldiers end up asking questions.

“Do you really think my that dumb?” Ren asks, removing his helmet and setting it to the side. “It is easy enough to avoid being seen entering or leaving your quarters. I do not even have to use the Force to do so.”

Hux decides to avoid that lost battle. “I told you to stay out of my head,” he reprimands instead, giving Ren a pointed look as the Knight makes his way towards the desk. The holopad he still has in his hands flies away with a gesture of Ren’s hands. Hux really shouldn’t allow it.

“You did,” Ren agrees casually as he arrives before Hux. From his still sitting position, Hux needs to crane his neck to meet Ren’s eyes. It is uncomfortable, and in fact presents Hux with quite a conundrum.

To stand would be to tacitly accept Ren’s presence here, and validate the liberties he takes. To order him to leave would be seen as a petty display of power, and -

Ren interrupts his thoughts by sitting on his lap, looking both smug and defiant. But mostly smug.

It takes Hux all that he has not to sigh. “You are bold tonight.” It is not completely unpleasant, if he is completely honest, but now is entirely the wrong time for this newfound forwardness. 

Ren hums, acknowledging his remark but not commenting upon it further. “I could kill him for you, if you wish,” he says instead, and there is no question he is referring to Jorm Tarkin. 

Hux leans back in his chair. “I know you could.”

“I would if you asked me.”

“You would do anything I asked of you.” The words are something like a provocation, especially spoken as they are: Hux’s head resting against the back of the chair, his eyes closed as he all but ignores Ren’s hands as they come to stroke his shoulders.

A few months ago, he would have expected Ren to fly into a rage. Although he has more faith in the Knight’s control now, it is still surprising to hear him shrug them off. “Almost,” Ren corrects.

“What wouldn’t you do?” Hux presses, lips twitching in amusement.

“Compromise.”

Hux pauses at the words. Slowly, he lifts his head up, and meets Ren’s steady gaze. It is almost unnerving how someone usually so expressive can look as absolutely still as Ren is right now.

“The Cause,” Ren continues, eyes never leaving Hux’s, “the Dark Side. My own potential. I would see them all fulfilled. I will not falter, I will not be _let the Light_ …” He grits his teeth. “Snoke does not care, Snoke _lied,_ ” he adds with a snarl, “and I will kill him for it. And I will fulfill Vader’s legacy by restoring order to the Galaxy. I will not tolerate being limited again.”

He leans forward slowly, until their faces are but inches apart and Hux can feel his breath against his cheek.

“I believe you see as I do in this. For your sake, I hope I am correct.”

Hux stares at Ren’s face like he has never seen it before - and in a sense, he hasn’t. Never before has Ren looked so calm, so certain, loyal and dangerous and ruthless in his own way. The fingers that tighten around his shoulders are the only evidence of the ever-present violence that simmers beneath Ren’s skin, of the raw emotion that will always be at the Knight’s core. 

Hux stares, and it is amazing how his perspective shifts as he does. Those little defiances as of late now take on a new meaning. It was Ren making a statement, with failed attempts at subtlety and much more effective bluntness. 

Hux stares, and for the first time truly understands what he has always known: Ren has given him his loyalty, yes, and will follow him in service of the First Order, but he will not make the same mistake twice ; should his loyalties be proven misplaced, he will deal out a violent death that will be both justice and vengeance. For himself, and for the cause he believes in. 

And Hux has never been so hard in his life.

“And if I do not?”

“I have proven to have no qualms in finding a more worthwhile leader.” Ren smirks. “Besides, Phasma has proven herself to be quite competent, and she is rather beautiful, all things-”

Hux cuts him off by crushing his lips on his. Ren yelps, making a move to recoil, but Hux’s hand is already secure behind his head, and instead Hux takes advantage of that open mouth to deepen the kiss.

“Don’t even think about it, Ren,” he hisses as he pulls back for air, lips still lingering a breath away from Ren’s. “I do not share.”

The Knight looks both dazed and delighted, opens his mouth to reply, but whatever response he may have intended dissolves into a moan as Hux begins to attack his neck. 

And attack is the right word, for Hux has never felt a hunger like this before. But seeing Ren so cool and collected, yet so full of potential violence, and threatening Hux in the name of the First Order… It is so different from Ren’s submission, his deference, but no less delicious, because Ren still has some spine in him after all, and the knowledge only makes the sight of him kneeling that much more delicious _._

Kylo Ren is needy, yes, but also _demanding,_ and Hux wants to know just how high his standards are.

“Do you doubt me, Ren?” he demands, fingers coming to remove the Knight’s vest. It falls away quickly, no doubt thanks to assistance from Ren, revealing the pale and muscular chest Hux is growing more than familiar with. 

“No.” The answer is immediate, said in a breathless voice but no less certain.

He bites back a growl. “Why not?”

“Why would I? You only ever - _ah!_ \- ever for the cause…. So driven, I…”

A vision suddenly comes to settle in Hux’s mind, of himself addressing his army, lone figure on the higher deck. He is watching himself speak, hidden in the shadows, and he knows he is watching as Ren did. He hears his own words spoken so loudly and confidently, and as he looks on he feels _desire_ curling up, and it is Ren’s of course but also his now and - 

He blinks and is back in the present moment once again, Ren looking at him in breathless anticipation. He smirks.

“And here I thought you were only interested in a pretty face with a high rank,” he teases, lips trailing down Ren’s chest.

“Well, the face certainly didn’t hurt - oh!” Ren moans as Hux’s lips close around his nipple, hands shooting up to cling at Hux’s head. Hux allows it, revels in it even. He adores every sound, every shiver he feels beneath his fingers as his hands caress Ren. “But it’s because you are… you are you that I follow you, because no one else compares, _believes_ like you do, like _I_ do.”

And it’s true, isn’t it? Hux claimed the rank he has now through his own dedication and hard work, unmatched by any of the other trainees that vied for the position. He rose fast, and he rose alone, because no one could hope to keep up. Alone at the top, except now for Ren, who chose the First Order despite his upbringing, his past, all those who would pull him away from that choice. 

The two of them, brought together by their devotion. Hux had never envisioned things like that before.

“Yes,” Ren moans, and Hux doesn’t give a kriff that he has been reading his mind again. “You, the cause, you believe, I know you do, I know you won’t... _please…!_ ” he babbles.“Lead me, the Galaxy, just don’t lie, don’t…”

“I promise,” Hux hisses between nips and bites and kisses. “ _I_ _promise_.”

 

*

 

Another one of Hux’s frivolities: imagining his success.

It is one of his most embarrassing ones, akin daydreaming in his bedroom like a brooding teenager, but he cannot help it sometimes. In a sense, it is a testament to his drive, his vision: he knows what he wants, and he will do all in his power to get it.

So in his mind, he sees himself as the Emperor he is meant to be. His clothing have changed little, for he favors practicality above all. But perhaps some streaks of red and gold to complement his black uniform. 

In his mind, he stands on a podium, and he delivers his speech with the intensity and charisma he knows he possesses in such circumstances. Only this time he isn’t addressing a sea of Stormtroopers, but an ocean of citizen. Every species, every profession, and although Hux can only see as far as the horizon, he knows that beyond that sky lies a system, an entire Galaxy, and it is all as it should be. No more disorder, no more complacency, and all of it is Hux’s to rule.

In his mind, there is a new and constant feature: as Hux looks over the endless crowd beneath him, Kylo Ren stands at his side.

 

*

 

Well, Hux thinks wrily, it couldn’t last forever. Or even more than three months, apparently. 

Still, in that glorious trimester, the repair budget had been at an all time low, thanks to Ren’s new found restraint. Which has apparently been newly lost, if the completely shattered room is anything to go by.

It’s Hux’s fault for being taken off guard ; Ren would always be Ren, and just because he has elected Hux as his new leader doesn’t mean he has would completely change to suit him. The persistence of his superior air whenever the Force is mentioned should have been enough of a clue.

“Are you quite done?” he asks to the lone figure in the room. Three months hadn’t been enough to get rid of the Stormtroopers’ and officers’ well-founded instincts to keep clear of the Knight whenever he has a tantrum. Hux is the only one who dares approach. “You must be. There is nothing left for you to cut down.”

“Are you volunteering, General?” The snarl is still audible, even from behind the voice modulator, and Hux frowns. 

It isn’t that he believes for one second that Ren will strike him down ; it is that he would make the threat in the first place, he who applies the same fanatic devotion to his chosen leader as he does to that religion of his. 

Or perhaps he believes Hux will be lenient with him. In that case, Ren will show him just how sorely he is mistaken.

“Follow me,” he snaps, before turning away. He doesn’t check to see if the Knight does as he is told.

If he doesn’t, well… He’ll think of something appropriate. Ren has sworn loyalty to him, and to a certain degree, obedience. Such an oath would mean little to Hux, but to the Force user it is perhaps as sacred a vow as he can make. Hux has no intention on letting him off the hook.

In the end, such considerations are pointless. The sound of Ren’s heavy boots hitting the floor follows him all the way back to his quarters, until they both stop in the middle of the bedroom. Only then does Hux turn, to see Ren standing a few steps behind. An illusory safe distance. 

“Take off the mask. I am not talking to you with that ridiculous contraption on.”

For a moment, he believes the Knight may not do as he is told, but then he heard the click of a lock releasing, and the mask is placed on Hux’s desk, thankfully devoid of any official document. He wouldn’t put it past Ren to make a mess just to be petty.

“Is there a reason for your outburst?” he asks, walking away towards the large swivel chair where he usually works. He sits down, not caring that Ren remains standing.

“The Resistance is closing in on the map to Skywalker,” the Knight says, both defensive and urgent as he tries to make his case. “They may get there before us.”

“Again with Skywalker?” Hux replies in a bored tone. He picks up his holopad, and pretends to look over some report regarding the spendings in lower-level ships. “For a man who hasn’t done a thing in over fifteen years, he is certainly talked about.”

The sound of disbelief coming from the Knight was nothing short of predictable. “He is still a threat. We need to kill him!”

“We need to take care of the Resistance. The rest can be dealt with afterwards.”

“ _I need to kill him!”_

Hux looks up. Ren’s face is flushed deeper still, further embarrassment from his outburst mingling itself to his desperate kind of rage. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly puts the holopad back on his desk. Leaning back, he places his fingers under his chin, and adopts a purposefully scrutinizing look, the kind that makes his subordinated squirm.

Ren grits his teeth, but endures Hux’s stare without a sound. It is pleasing in a way, to know that the Knight isn’t so easily cowered even without his mask ; that being said, Hux is looking for a little more humility at the moment. 

“Then do,” he says finally, his casual acceptance finally breaking Ren’s stoic mask into an expression of pure surprise. “Kill Skywalker, if you must. But be efficient about it.”

“It would be easier if your troupes were somewhat competent,” Ren snarls back.

Hux raises an eyebrow. “We’ve gone over this before. My troupes are only as competent as their leader.” He leans forward. “If you must blame anyone, blame yourself.”

And he does, Hux realizes when Ren bites his lip. He has no idea what happened precisely, hasn’t had any report yet, but Ren makes no effort in hiding his frustration, his guilt, and his rage that is purely self-directed.

For all his tendencies to blame others, he curses himself the most. There has been a specific pattern to his tantrums that Hux had never noticed before, simply because up until Ren bent the knee, Hux had believed him incapable of introspection. 

The truth is that Ren constantly obsesses over himself, and his failings. So much so that it becomes handicapping for the two of them.

“Anything else?” he croaks out, face flushed from his shame. 

“Yes,” Hux answers flatly. “You destroyed valuable equipment. You disobeyed my orders.” His eyes cold and voice is flat. “That still needs to be addressed.”

The naked relief on Ren’s face almost takes him aback. The Knight’s entire body relaxes. “What do you wish to do to me?” he asks almost eagerly. 

“What do you think I’ll do?” Hux asks in return, carefully keeping his voice neutral.

Ren’s eyes drift toward the General’s hips, where his blaster is ever present, where his dagger is hidden, because just because something is archaic doesn’t mean it isn’t effective, and throughout his career many would-be-assassins have discovered just how painful a knife to the neck can be. 

Ren looks at both of those, and squares his jaw even as he bears his neck, trembles slightly even as he is forced to remain still, and Hux is reminded of all those times he waited outside the Inner Sanctum as Snoke had words with his apprentice, and how he had taken to bring along a holopad so that reading may distract him from the screams.

Of course Ren expects that kind of punishment. He fears it, obviously, but still he expects it. Wants it even.

Hux suppresses a sigh. The conclusion is obvious enough. All that remains is what to do about it.

Hux is not Snoke, and torturing an ally is most counter-productive. 

Slowly he stands, and makes a show of setting all his weapons on the black, lacquered desk. He steps forward, and lays a hand on Ren’s shoulders.

The full body flinch that follows is impressive in its violence. He doesn’t move any further, not until he can feel the tension in those shoulders ebb a little, until Ren’s face is no longer pinched in anticipated pain but is instead riddled in confusion.

Only then does he undo the clasp holding the cape, letting it fall to the floor. The dark fabric pools around their feet, but neither look down as Hux smoothen some invisible crease on Ren’s shoulder.

They stand quietly for a precious minute, until the Knight makes a move to continue undress, his fingers tugging harshly at the dark fabric of his robe. 

“No,” Hux says gently, but firmly. 

Ren stays put, but the confusion on his face grows stronger still.

It is Hux who removes the Knight’s clothing, slowly and carefully, each item folded and put away with as much care as if they were his own. He even kneels to remove the boots and slacks, pulling everything down until Ren stands naked in the room. 

From his position on the ground he looks up, to see Ren looking back in both bafflement and anticipation, dread and confusion as his eyes still go to the blaster and blade, his muscles tensing at the sight even as his eyes fill with yearning.

Throughout all this, his cock is rock hard.

This is the sort of man Kylo Ren has been made into: eager for pain he fears. Aroused at the idea of punishment, not because of the suffering it brings but for the promise of forgiveness that will follow. 

Ren is truly a damaged thing, and to his credit the Knight has started to realize just how close Snoke has come to ruining him. Still, there are some facets of the truth he remains blind to, merely because he is too entrenched in habits to see beyond them. 

Hux will help him with that. Because it reinforces loyalty. Because it is best to have a subordinate without a penchant for self-destruction. 

Because Hux does not wish for Ren to be broken. 

“Lie on the bed,” he orders, standing up. “Head on the pillow.”

Ren glances towards the dark sheets, then back towards him, before hesitantly doing as he is told. Hux watches it all with a certain measure of satisfaction: that control room _will_ be expensive to replace ; Ren deserves to squirm a little. 

Once the Knight is on his back, still looking at Hux, the General slowly makes his way towards him, sits on the edge on the mattress. He reaches down to slowly brush against the exposed skin.

Ren flinches at the first contact, but somewhat relaxes when there is no violence to follow. As the General continues stroking, his muscles release even more tension. Still, his expression remains alert ; on guard. 

“Normally, I would inflict physical punishment on subordinates who willfully disobey my orders,” Hux comments almost idly, his gloved fingers tracing nonsensical patterns on Ren’s bare chest. “But for you, I find myself reluctant.”

Ren’s eyes widen. He raises his head off the pillow, looking at Hux uncomprehendingly. 

The General holds his gaze steadily. “I will not be a substitute for your Master. If you wish for pain, you inflict it upon yourself.”

“No, Hux…”

“I do not doubt your loyalty,” he reassures in a steady voice, satisfied when he sees Ren relax slightly at the words. “But whatever Snoke did to punish your failures, whatever pain you have come to expect, you will not manipulate me to obtain.”

“It was not my intent!”

“No?” Hux hums, laying his palm flat on Ren’s chest. “Then what did you intend?”

Ren opens his mouth, but no response is forthcoming. Like a child grilled by a professor, he fidgets, bites his lips, looks desperately at Hux for some sort of answer, which the General will not give for Kylo Ren can never improve otherwise.

“Pain… is the price for failure,” he croaks out It is always so. Pain is how I make up for it.”

“Success is how you make up for failure,” Hux corrects. “I will not have you serve out of fear of pain. I will not have you fear me.”

Ren’s eyes widen in surprise, and it takes much more effort than Hux would have thought to remain impassive. 

Of course he doesn’t wish for Ren to fear him. It is just proper strategy. Kylo Ren is a creature of fanaticism, devotion will motivate him better than fear ever could. 

It doesn’t stop the words from feeling like a confession. He doesn’t wish to contemplate that fact.

“I do not,” Ren answers quietly. The words still hang heavily in between them, a mute resonance that clings to the air, makes it harder to breathe. It is foolish, because when has Ren ever feared him? There is nothing surprising in those words. 

It doesn’t stop them from feeling like a confession. Kylo Ren proclaims no fear, and Hux hears something else entirely.

The hand that rests on the Knight’s chest suddenly feels so, so warm, in a way that has nothing to do with the leather gloves. To move it away proves painfully difficult, when it would have been quite content to remain there for ever. Right over the heartbeat.

But remove it he does, and he thanks all those years of training that have given him some mastery over his expression. He knows his default is to look cold and aloof, which is precisely as he wishes to appear right now. “Good,” he says almost curtly, wrapping himself in the formalities that are just as much as an armor as his greatcoat. “I want you at your best.” He smirks. “And I know how great your best can be.”

The praise works exactly as he intended it to: Ren whimpers, quietly but audibly, and arches slightly towards him.

Hux smiles. It is so very _easy_ to gain the upper hand. So easy to build Ren back up when a kind word is enough to make him completely undone. Like this, Hux can retake control easily - although the fact that he lost it in the first place is somewhat distressing. 

He wonders if the Knight even knows what makes him react so, or if he just blindly reacts to the rising lust he feels. It doesn’t matter either way.

He leans down for a kiss, and feels Ren clinging to his jacket as he does, clinging to the fabric to pull him down further. 

The kiss is a slow, languorous thing, completely at odds with the way Ren almost urgently unbuttons his jacket, pulls it off him in hurried jerks. Hux lets him, until it comes completely off and the Knight starts attacking his white shirt. Then, he pulls back ever so little, his hand resting on Ren’s chest keeping him from following him. It isn’t a forceful gesture ; Hux needs only hint at his will for Ren to comply.

The knowledge alone is heady ; to see Ren so obviously restraining himself in order to do as Hux wishes is downright intoxicating. 

“I know how dedicated you are,” he whispers against Ren’s lips. “How driven. You are a credit to the Cause.”

Ren lets out a sound that is somewhere between a gasp and a choke.

In this moment, it is important not to lie. Ren would know almost immediately, and the consequences would be disastrous. 

Last time the Knight had been lied to, he betrayed his then master and swore himself to the man who would overthrow him. Let’s not repeat that, shall we?

So Hux does not lie. He knows Ren to be dedicated. He knows him to be powerful. And so the next words he speak are just as truthful.

“I am delighted to have you by my side.”

Ren’s breath hitches, his hand gripping at the sheets in response to Hux’s unspoken demand. His entire body is strained, muscle trembling and head arched back, and his teeth bite his lips almost to the point of drawing blood. 

The exposed neck, the obvious desire to remain quiet, they are an invitation, almost a challenge.

Hux has always so enjoyed winning over Ren. 

A kiss just below the jaw. Lips trailing down the neck, barely brushing against the skin until he reaches the junction with the shoulder, and _bites._

Ren lets out a sound like a choked gasp, his whole body jerking at the sudden flash of pain, obviously very appreciated from the way his hand shoots up to grab Hux’s hair, holding the General’s head in place - as if Hux has any intention to leave.

Instead, he soothes the little mark with sucks and lips, feeling long fingers twitch in his hair, his own hand stroking down Ren’s side. He basks in the loud panting, the writhing of the body beneath him that screams of want and need and _so many things_ that are entirely his, that Kylo Ren gives solely to him with an abandon Hux himself would never dare. He pulls away, revelling in Ren’s whimper as he does, and looks up into dark, dark eyes.

Ren’s pupils are blown wide, his lips parted in a permanent gasp, his face a mess of awe, anticipation and wariness. All for Hux. 

That last thought makes something short-circuit in his brain, makes it almost instinctive the way he surges up to claim those lips, forcing a kiss that is much more biting and bruising and everything Ren wants, and doesn’t Hux know it. 

“And to have you in my bed,” he gasps, pulling back almost in a daze. “What a sight you are!”

Ren’s flush grows deeper at the words, his panting grows faster, and it is perhaps one of the most lovely combination of sight and sound Hux has ever witnessed.

Until Ren moans as Hux’s fingers cup his testicles, and the General decides it is lovelier still. 

He makes a show of removing his shirt, slowly unbuttoning it and sliding it off one shoulder at the time, watching as Ren’s eyes tear away from his face to gaze hungrily at his chest, his navel, and all that is still covered by his standard uniform slacks

The wariness and hesitance has completely vanished from Ren’s face, replaced by deep need and desire, the power of both shining through dark eyes and parted lips, a face which suddenly seems far more noble than the General has ever seen it before, with an intensity that seems to sublime the Knight’s ever feature. 

“Beautiful,” Hux whispers, because somewhere along the lines all his calculations have vanished. Somewhere along the lines, he has started making Ren feel good because he wants him to feel good. 

He finds Ren beautiful, and he wants him to know it.

Frivolous. Absolutely frivolous. 

“Hux...” Ren breathes out, hands reaching up to snake into red hair. It is cut short, offers a much poorer grip than long, dark locks, but Ren doesn’t seem to mind, or even notice. His entire attention is on Hux’s face again.

There is something mesmerizing about being the recipient of such focus, like staring into the eyes of a snake, except that Ren has never been so graceful or so sneaky. He wears his thoughts on his face, project his intent through his sheer presence, and though Hux will berate himself for it come morning, he cannot help but think that maybe a few destroyed consoles are worth the existence of a being of such intensity. He has never had even a lick of sensitivity to the Force, but despite all his tantrums there is something terrible and enthralling in Ren’s permanent passion, and it is not so hard for Hux to believe that there is invisible power molded into that flesh. 

“Ren,” he whispers in turn, for no other reason than to taste that name, test the weight of it on his tongue and discover just how much he enjoys the feel of it pouring from his lips. 

Ren doesn’t look away, but there is something of a smile, of joy that adds itself to his face, and that of all things is what adds a lightness “Hux,” he says once again, louder, more certain, and just the way Hux imagines Kylo would pray.

They could go on like this forever, if Hux would only allow himself to say the name in return. He wants to, and that is why he cannot, because it should always be Ren who is reverent, Ren with his religion and mysticism Hux should have no part in. It should always be Ren that gives himself completely while Hux receives, as is the due of any leader. 

“Do not fear me,” Hux shouldn’t say, but he does. “Do not fear me, you have no need to, I…”

He presses his lips against the bottom Ren’s throat to muffle himself, gag himself as the words still press against his teeth. He chokes on all that he doesn’t say, all he hadn’teven known he wanted to say, and since the words seem unknown to him until they leave his lips, then as long as he doesn’t speak them they are not true.

Very real, however, is Ren’s reaction, so strong for such small act, and Hux finds himself filled with the urge to draw the greatest of moans and provoke the deepest of shudders, so that there may be no doubt on who holds the power here. 

So he kisses and nips his way all the way down towards the navel, eyes closing as he both throws himself entirely into the task and savors the rewards he gets for it. Fingers comes to wind into his hair, his names spills from lush lips over and over again like a chant, and Hux loses himself in a worship given entirely too him. 

 

*****

 

He sits in the dark. He polishes his mind.

 _Starkiller is nearly complete. He still needs Snoke’s final approval._ Save. 

_Resistance member captured. He had little information to give._ Dismiss. A pity, by all accounts, but there is nothing to be done about it. The man has been killed without a fuss, and that is that. 

_When Ren made a move to leave the bed, Hux had laid a hand on his chest to stop him. It had been an impulse - no, not that, an instinct - and although he hadn’t been looking at Ren, he could feel the Knight’s gaze on him, and -_

He pushes the thought to the side. He’ll deal with that one later.

 

*

 

Some Lieutenant is giving a report, and Hux is bored out of his mind.

He should be paying attention, he knows, but he is already aware of all the information that is droned out by the man before him. Besides, the report is about the spendings of each ship of the fleet - again - and it is the kind of information Hux will dismiss from his mind as soon as he has time that night.

He may also allow himself a smoke one of his finer cigars. They are fairly difficult to acquire, but after such a tedious day, he deserves a reward. 

He had tried initiating Ren to cigars once. The more time they spent together, the more apparent it became that Ren was sorely lacking in many experiences, including smoking - and drinking for that matter, which probably explained his appalling taste in liquor. 

So Hux had lit one for him - lower quality to start with, of course - and had delicately given it to the Knight. Ren had been eager, and as is common for him, far too impatient, so he had ended up swallowing gallons of smoke, only to cough for the next few minutes, glaring half-heartedly at Hux who had been laughing even as he stroked Ren’s back. 

He smiles at the memory before he can catch himself. Fortunately, the small ranking officer before him takes it as an indication that he has done well. Better not to correct him, even if there will be rumors of the General gracing that one officer with a smile, which will inevitably lead to rumors of a… closer relationship between the two of them.

Ren will laugh himself sick when he hears about it.

 

*

 

He is woken up by the sound of fists banging against the door. Loud and insistent, and completely against any sort of protocol or manners. It is 0300, he is a General, and no one would dare disturb him at this time.

Except one person, obviously, and that thought is what prompts him to get up and rush to open the door, if only to stop the continuous banging, which has now grown much more irregular and stuttering. He stands before as it slides open, intent on berating Ren for showing up at this time.

The words dies in his throat when he suddenly has his arms full with the Knight’s heavy body. Hux sputters, stumbling backward as he tries to regain his balance, arms reflexively tightening around Ren’s body to keep him still. The half-unconscious man moans, but buries his head further into Hux’s chest. His right arm raises as if to pull himself up, but halfway through it falls weakly to his side, uselessly hanging as he collapses even more against the General.

Cursing, Hux drags him towards his bed. The kriffing robes don’t make his job any easier, so heavy and cumbersome he is beginning to wonder how Ren doesn’t trip on them more often. His mind provides an image of the Knight using the Force to keep them out of the way.

Ren huffs out something like a laughter. Hux doesn’t bother berating him for reading his mind.

When they reach their destination, he all but throws him on the mattress. Ren doesn’t even use his hands to catch himself, although he does roll himself onto his back, demonstrating that there is still at least some strength left to him. “Apologies, General...” he begins, only to hiss when Hux starts tugging at his clothing. The harsh movements make his limbs jossle, and perhaps Hux should be more gentle. 

Then again, if Ren expected any sort of delicate care, then he shouldn’t have gone to Hux. 

“What happened?!” the General hisses. He could just grab his dagger and rip the entire outfit. Ren wouldn’t appreciate it.

With a growl, he continues to tug until the robe finally falls to the side. Thankfully, the second layer has visible claps to the sound, and removing it proves to be much easier.

“I would have returned to my chambers,” Ren continues, head lolled to the side and voice still weak, “but they were very far away you see, and..”

“Not that!” Hux snaps, fingers bunching around the dark fabric. Were it not for the thickness of it, his nails would be digging into his flesh. “I don’t give a kriff about that! Who did this to you!?”

Ren blinks. He turns his head slowly, though this time the sluggishness of his movements is more due to his confusion than to the weakness of his limbs. “The Supreme Leader is not pleased with my progress,” he states as if it were obvious, and yes, Hux realizes, it is. There is only one person who would, who _could_ hurt Ren like this. If he had taken but a second to think, he would have known the answer.

But he hadn’t taken two seconds to think, because Ren had collapsed in his arms and that had apparently shut down his thought process completely. Nothing had mattered except getting him to lie down, and then checking for wounds. Which he is still hasn’t done yet, and the thought bothers him much more than he would like.

Clenching his jaw, he resumes removing the final pieces of clothing, throwing himself in the task with the single-minded focus of one who is trying not to avoid a particular line of thought.

“He let his displeasure be known, as he usually does. I needed… Kriff!” He chokes on his words when Hux quickly removes the final layer of clothing. He hisses, laying his head back. “Well, you most likely know.”

Hux lets the words wash over him, too focussed on the sight before him. “There are no wounds.”

It should have been a relief: Ren is fine, will probably be on his feet come morning, if not earlier. This is good news.

Except that Ren is still in pain, and if there are no wounds, than there is little Hux can do. He knows how to administer first aid, has a large supply of bacta and any number of tools in his closet. Physical pain, true injuries, he can deal with. Phantom aches from a phantom power, not at all.

Hux truly hates the Force at times.

He gets a laugh in reply. It is weak, and more resigned than mocking. Still, it is something like Ren, so Hux readily accepts it. “Well of course there aren’t. He’s a hologram, remember?” Ren winces as he pushes himself up. “But he can still send pain, and I have to accept it. It would be suspicious, if I no longer did.” 

“Of course,” Hux mumbles, before standing up. “Stay here.”

He walks quickly to the bathroom, turning on the fresher until the water is near boiling. He throws towels under the stream, letting them soak until they are thoroughly drenched. The bacta and bandages he own will be of little help, but this might. Completely archaic, used only in backwater planets devoid of the most basic technology, but it is still something. 

It would have been better if he had a basin of some sort, but his quarters are so thoroughly minimalistic that he only has what is strictly of use. And what would a general do with a basin anyway?

Tend to a Knight of Ren, apparently.

He makes his way back towards the room, where Ren has manages to prop himself up into a more upward position, the pillow stuck between his back and the wall doing most of the work. 

“Lie back down,” Hux orders briskly, because really, what is Ren hoping to accomplish? Not even ten minutes ago he could barely stand upright.

The Knight scowls, but does as he is told. He opens his mouth, probably to talk back at the General, but whatever caustic remark he may have had disappears when Hux lays the hot towels on him.

“Thank you,” Ren half whispers, half moans. His muscles already seem to relax under the heat, and he sinks into the mattress. “Force, to think I once thanked Snoke for this!”

Hux doesn’t know the intent behind that last comment. There probably wasn’t any, just Ren letting his mouth run off, his lack of self control manifesting once more, and it is another thoughtless act from a thoughtless boy that has no regards for the images it summons in Hux’s mind.

He sees Ren, a small dark figure in front of a gigantic one, weak and trembling from pain, voice hoarse from screaming as he is stared down by a dispassionate, decrepit face. Ren kneeling, with his eyes closed. Like he did for Hux, except that his surrender is won through fear and pain, and instead of a face filled with longing and relief there is pain and weariness. And still Ren kneels, and Snoke calls it leadership. It is inefficient. It is barbaric. It makes Hux’s blood boil with a rage and possessiveness that he hadn’t known himself capable of.

Hux is calm. Hux is efficient.

Hux wants to strike Snoke down with his bear hands. No, not quite - he wants to use Ren’s lightsaber. Wants to hack as violently as Ren once did ; he wants Ren to watch.

“He is a fool,” he hisses. It is strange: never before has he hated the Supreme Leader.

Now he loathing is so strong he is choking on it.

And of course Ren feels it. He probably doesn’t even need the Force Hux’s hate is so potent. His eyes crack open, and he looks upon him with a wariness that would surprise the General if he were in any state to comment upon it. “Hux..?”

“To treat you so poorly…” he continues, his voice almost animal-like - not a growl, but a hiss. Hux is a calm, collected man: his anger is as cold as the rest of him. But no less terrifying. “Such petty violence, such pointless viciousness…”

“Hux…”

“I don’t know why you stayed so loyal to him for so long.” He used to be eloquent, once. Could give speeches in front of an entire army, and demand attention. Now he is just rambling, and worst of all he doesn’t care enough to stop. “You don’t deserve this, any of this, you deserve so much better -”

“Hux!”

It has been years since he has heard his name called like that. Like he is a cadet still, a grunt being called to order. It is enough to startle him out of his rant. What truly silences him though is the look on Ren’s face.

Mere moments ago, the Knight had looked as if he were on the verge of fainting. Now his entire demeanor screams alertness - as if Hux were attacking him somehow. His fist have curled around the sheets, and Hux would have thought it to be in rage if it weren’t for Ren’s eyes.

It isn’t anger in them ; if Hux had to name anything at all, he would call it fear. Or hurt, or any number of things that make no sense but are the only ones that can account for the rapid breathing, for the trembling shoulders, or for the way Ren recoils when Hux instinctively reaches out towards him.

“Do not… do not pretend!” Though Ren’s voice is so clearly meant to sound firm, there is a hint of agitation creeping in, almost panic. “I am not so weak as to need it. Not so kriffing _needy_ as to believe it! You…. You just _stop_!”

It is Hux’s turn to recoil, both at the violence of the outburst and at the words themselves. “Ren..?” 

Ren opens his mouth again, but instead of ranting he lets out a growl of frustration. His face scrunches up in an ugly expression, his mouth distorting almost grotesquely. It looks like he is swallowing bitter poison, and when he looks away it looks like surrender, somehow. Ren has given up. Ren is without hope.

It is a horrible sight.

“I am not a fool, General,” he whispers. He doesn’t look at Hux as he does so, doesn’t look at anything but the junction between the wall and the bed. “I am well aware of how you view me. I know I am useful, and powerful, and maybe even a good fuck.” He closes his eyes tight, as if his words physically harm him to say. “You do not need to pretend I am anything more. It is fine.”

“You know, do you? How _very_ astute you must be, Lord Ren!” The words come out through clench teeth, and they are a mistake.

They are a mistake, because he had wanted them to sound cold, mocking. He had wanted to make Ren feel idiotic, because such foolish things shouldn’t be said, Hux shouldn’t answer them, doesn’t _want to_ answer them. He had wanted to sound sarcastic, and instead finds he sound angry, and worst still _hurt_ , and there is no justification for that.

“You are most pragmatic, General.” How dare Ren? How dare he sound so resigned?! “Do not pretend...”

“Tell me, Ren, do I often let my subordinates come into my room?” It doesn’t matter anymore, he reasons, because Ren will know, will feel Hux’s emotions. 

He will feel that Hux is honest in this, and it isn’t fair because why should he be aware of something Hux is only just discovering? Why did he have to come here at all? Why couldn’t he have just endured and drag himself to his own rooms instead? 

Why can’t Hux be fine with that idea?

“Do all the people I _fuck_ get to remain in my bed? Do you _know?_ ”

“I…”

“Do. You. Know?”

“...No.”

“Then be quiet, and let me tend to you!” 

Ren’s mouth snaps shut, although his stare grows even more intense. So filled with thought and feelings Hux cannot read them. Doesn’t try to, because to linger on Ren’s emotion would inevitably lead him to reflecting on his own, and he much rather busy himself with the already lukewarm towels.

So he gets up, drenches them in hot water again. The stream pours loudly, drowning out his thoughts, and when he comes back to a mercifully still quiet Ren, he loses himself in the motion of rubbing the towels against Ren’s chest.

In a way, he is exploring Ren’s body once more ; Hux has seen it more than once, touched it more than once, but never like this. Never so quietly, never so calmly (although he is anything but calm).

Never so caringly.

Hux is efficient. Hux is ruthless.

Hux finds a superior sort of contentedness feeling Ren relax under his touch.

He continues for a long time, until the towels are cold once more, and his arms nearly hurt. Ren is asleep now ; clothing still hanging off him, limbs sprawled over the sheets instead of tucked in them, but sleeping, and Hux is at a loathe to wake him up. He drops the towels on the floor, not caring about the puddle that will surely form around them. 

Ren’s neck is slightly crooked, he will wake up in pain if he remains that way too long. Hux takes Ren’s head in his hand to adjust its position, though not before wiping his hands to remove any water that may still be on them.

Ren is too exhausted to look peaceful, but there is a new softness to his features as he sleeps. Or maybe it isn’t new at all, and Hux has only begun to notice. The same way he has just noticed how well cared for Ren’s hair is, in a way that speaks of almost fastidious grooming. He wonders if he is only indulging in the luxuries the Finalizer offers, or if he always takes such care with it. 

Or maybe it is simply naturally that way, he thinks as he feels it through his fingers. Some people are born with such things, and it would hardly be unfair for him to have such an advantageous physical feature when his other ones are so peculiar. Not that he is unattractive, far from it, but -

And then he realizes he is kneeling by Ren’s side, running fingers through his hair and reflecting on his beauty, which is barely an improvement on that _other_ train of thought he is still not entertaining, and his fingers still haven’t stopped combing through those dark locks and he _needs to leave, right now._

So he does, all but stumbles out of the room and collapses in the armchair he keeps in a corner of his quarters.

It isn’t running away.

He just doesn’t have time for this nonsense.

 

*****

 

He startles awake when a hand touches his shoulder. The touch is delicate, but it still makes him yelp, blinking quickly to clear his vision. 

Ren recoils at Hux’s reaction, and looks at him recomposing himself from a safe distance. He is blushing slightly, something Hux is exceedingly glad of. At least he isn’t the only one to be thoroughly embarrassed.

“We are needed on deck in 30 min,” Ren says quietly, one he is certain that Hux is able to listen.

Stifling a curse, the General glances at the clock on his desk. Ren is correct, not that he doubted it. Which means Hux has overslept, which never happens.

The again, the same could be said about many things as of late.

“Thank you, Lord Ren,” he says, in the most cold and professional manner he can manage. “I will see you on deck.”

The dismissal is clear. 

Ren ignores it completely.

“You look tired,” he says softly, and Hux burns at the concern he hears in that tone.

He forces out a scoff. It is difficult, when his throat feels as tight as it does, but years of scorn and cold distance allow him to fake it well enough. “The armchair is a less than ideal place to sleep, Ren. It is hardly surprising.”

“You could have kicked me out.”

Hux doesn’t say anything, because Kylo is right, he could have, only it didn’t even occur to him. He doesn’t move, because if he does he isn’t even sure what he will do. 

He just knows that it will only drag him further into this horrible mess.

“I will see you on deck,” he repeats slowly through his teeth. It almost sounds like a hiss.

Ren hesitates a while longer, but this time he complies. His footsteps are loud in the otherwise noiseless room.

Hux still doesn’t move as he hears the doors shut behind him.

 

*

 

Things have changed. He doesn’t know when, but change they did, and Hux…

Hux isn’t frightened. 

He is not. 

He has merely been busy, you see, and that is why he no longer bids Ren to stay at night, why they no longer meet as often as they did. They have planned their entire operation anyway, there is little point in discussing it.

And Hux does not miss Kylo Ren.

Except that he finds himself in Ren’s chambers one night, after a failed attempt at organizing his mind that left him angry and frustrated and thinking of Ren, again, and somehow he ended up here because of it. 

Foolish. Inefficient.

Ren isn’t there where he enters the room, and that should be more than enough reason to leave, but he doesn’t. He hears a voice coming from the room next door, recognizes it almost immediately, and his feet carry him forward before he can even think.

Peeking through the doorway he sees Ren, mask still on, sitting as if the weight of the world when on his shoulders. His anguish is audible even through the modulator, his words solemn and sad as he speaks to the charred remains of Vader’s mask.

Of course, Hux knows the importance of that relic. And of course, Hux knows just why Ren would speak so pleadingly to it. They have never talked about it, Ren has never even mentioned it, but despite Ren’s resolve only solidifying these past few months, there are still moments of weakness, of doubt. _The Call of the Light,_ as Ren would put it, and those are the only moments that make Hux nervous. That fill Ren with shame.

And just as Hux knows all this, he knows Ren must have heard him coming, felt him approach, and instead of shutting him out he let Hux enter. Let him hear, let him _see._

Ren is letting him see this. Ren is letting him see his lowest point.

And Hux…

Hux cannot handle it.

He turns away and leaves.

Things have changed. He doesn’t know what to do about it.

 

*

 

Starkiller is finally deployed. The red beam illuminates the sky, and the roars of the machine are the sound of Hux’s triumph.

The Republic falls today.

Ren is watching from the observation deck on the _Finalizer._ He should be standing besides him.

 

*

 

Any leader owes their success to the quality of their own mind. Hux’s is tearing apart.

It is breaking under a cacophony of _Starkiller destroyed,_ and _FN-2187, Phasma, it has to be,_ and the snow is cold and blinding and the ground is shaking and he needs to find Ren!

 _Orders from the Supreme Leader,_ except that Hux was going to do it anyway, that his first thought when he understood that the day was lost, that the project he had worked so hard on for so many years was thoroughly destroyed, his first thought had been _where is Ren?_ And it had been important, just as important as anything else, and frivolous, and Hux did not care.

He is running in the snow now, his shuttle a few meters back - and he hasn’t ordered any Trooper to come with him, stupid, inefficient. His eyes are on the tracker - Ren complained about it, “I am no dog, Hux,” but he had left it on anyway - and some part of him must be following the trail, but the other can only think of Corellian nectar and Form VII - Vaapad, it’s called Vaapad - and, and -

Stupid. Frivolous. Pointless information.

All of it saved. All of it crystal clear in his mind. All of it cherished.

When did that happen?

How did he _let it?_

But all those thought stop mattering when he turns, towards a clearing that is far too close to a cliff for comfort, and freezes.

Blood on snow. 

That familiar face, nearly cleaved in half.

Hux is a General of the First Order. He does not panic. 

But he does rush towards the sprawled form, rips off his gloves so that he can press his fingers against Ren’s neck, the pulse he feels beneath the skin the most grounding thing he has ever known. 

It is all he needs; all he has the time to take, because the planet is collapsing around them and they need to _go._

Ren is heavy, all muscles and leather and those _damn robes,_ but Hux has adrenaline on his side, and desperation, so it feels like no effort at all to hoist him in his arms, his head resting against his chest and his feet dangling over his arm.

Ren would protest if he were conscious. Fortunately (hah!), he isn’t.

And Hux starts running. Because the planet is collapsing around them.

Because Ren is still bleeding.

How the kriff did he end up like this?! Who could possibly have bested him to a lightsaber fight?

Questions for later. Much later. For when he can yell at Ren.

(That’s a lie. He won’t yell at him.)

(He isn’t sure what he’ll do.)

“Don’t die on me, Ren,” he grits through his teeth, which is a pointless gesture in so many ways. Ren doesn’t have a choice, cannot even hear him. His words help nothing.

And yet, Hux cannot help but pray an entity he has no use for that Ren obeys this command, this one command, as he has done so many times before and needn’t ever again if only he would just _survive this._

They arrive at the shuttle, and of course, Hux does the sensible thing. Gives Ren to the medidroids. Lets him be taken to the med bay. Goes to the command bridge to direct the officers that remain. 

He does all that, when all he wants is to cling Kylo to his chest and never, ever let go. 

He doesn’t even have the will to berate himself for that. Not anymore.

 

*

 

He had never realized just how uncomfortable the chairs in the medbay are ; he really ought to do something about it.

Then again, that would equate to publicly admitting how much times he spends in this room, watching Ren sleep, and that is something he can barely admit to himself.

Besides, Ren will heal soon enough, and then he will never step a foot into here again.

The medidroids were more than efficient in their work, and have predicted a full recovery with no damage to his motor skills or endurance. There is little that can be done about the scars, but their programming makes them dismiss those as negligible cost.

Rightfully so, Hux thinks - although admittedly with some reserve. The scar on Ren’s chest is fine, a vaguely circular mark that had been left by a bowcaster blaster, which in turn had been the cause for most of the bleeding. The scar on his face, however, is much more impressive looking - though, as is often the case in such things, much more shallow.

He wonders if Ren will be upset. He doesn’t know how far his vanity goes.

Hux, for his part, doesn’t imagine he’ll ever mind. 

He is pulled out of his thought by a groan. He looks up sharply to see Ren stirring, the idiot trying to pull himself up despite the obvious pain such motions put him through.

“Stay still or I will tie you down myself.”

Ren looks at him, head slowly turning. His eyes are largely unfocused, at least until they settle on him, and then they are filled with a vulnerable intensity, a rawness that Hux had only seen once before, eons ago.

He had relished in the expression then ; now he finds that he hates it. 

“Hux...” Ren croaks out, voice brittle from emotion and disuse. 

There is nothing for him to drink nearby, and Hux is at a loathe to leave his side, even to get some water. “Don’t speak quite yet, Ren. You sound terrible.”

“... I killed him…”

The words come out as a weeze, so low that for a moment Hux doubts Ren ever said anything at all. But then he sees those dark eyes losing focus once more as Ren contemplates his own words, and their meaning. So as gently as he can - he cannot afford to startle him - he places his hand against Ren’s cheek, trying to ground him as much as possible. “What is it, Ren?” he asks softly, like addressing a spooked animal. 

An unkind comparison, but sadly not untrue. Ren has begun to shake, eyes darting to the side, still unseeing, and the agitation rises in his voice as he speaks. “I killed him.” He lets out a noise, like a choke, or a sob, and then it is like a dam has broken, and the words leave his lips in a hysterical surge. “I killed him, I killed him, Oh Force, I-”

“Ren! Calm down!” The order leaves his lips before he can think, years of calling panicking subordinates to order. He regrets the words as soon as he hears them, wishes he had been more gentle - and isn’t that a first? - but it has the effect of snapping Ren back into focus. “Who did you kill?” 

The Knight swallows. “... Han Solo.”

Hux freezes. There are few people in the Galaxy whose death would cause such a reaction from Ren, and looking back, it should have been obvious it would be someone from his past.

But Han Solo…. What the kriff was that decrepit smuggler even doing on Starkiller?

“He was on the base, he called me…” Ren begins the elaborate, before his voice dies down. Because really, what does it matter how it happened? It could have been anywhere else, at any other time, and Ren would still have killed his father.

Hux reaches out to stroke his hair, offering comfort he knows Ren will not take, because he is still too lost in all that had happened, still making his way back to the present by speaking half-coherent sentences.

“I would have done it for Snoke, before… Or for me…” He closes his eyes tightly, as if to block out the world. “For me, yes, but it didn’t… It didn’t kill the Light.” He startles, eyes flashing open and darting back towards him. “You..!”

His strong hand surges forward to grasp Hux’s arm, squeezing so tightly it is almost painful, but Hux doesn’t try to break free, cannot look away from Ren’s face, which is desperate and pleading and _worshipful_ , and all for him. It is mesmerizing, and he cannot help but take it greedily despite all his fears for Ren’s state of mind.

“You kill it,” he whispers, wonder infusing his every words. His lips pull in something like a smile, even if it is distorted by his pain, both physical and not. “Make it gone, and I would have done it if you asked me.” His voice breaks. “It would have been easier if you had.”

“Ren...” It is hard getting the name out. His throat feels choked, and he doesn’t know why ; though maybe it is that he is… touched? No, no that is not the right word for it, although it is close.

He used to take in Ren’s devotion with relish and dark glee.

Now, he sees it as something to be treasured.

And because Ren gives him so much, he cannot help but want to give in return. Something that Ren so desperately wants, _needs_ right now, and something Hux has given before, but never quite like this. “You did well.”

The praise falls from his lips, easy and quiet and honest. He had been honest before, even when he hadn’t meant to be, but this still feels new. Because Hux no longer cares. Because Ren had lied bleeding out in the snow, and Hux had decided that he could do very well with not ruling over him if it only meant he would live.

And Ren has lived, and Ren is here, and Ren gives him everything he is and more.

And so Hux surrenders. 

He kisses Ren’s cheek. There has never been a more chaste gesture between the two.

It makes Hux dizzy. It makes Ren whimper with want.

“So very well, I am so proud of you.” he continues, pressing another kiss upon Ren’s brow. It is almost parental the way he does it, but that doesn’t seem to matter. Tenderness is such a rare currency in Ren’s life, so any form of it is drunk with greed. “So no more fretting, you beautiful thing -”

Ren surges up for a kiss, which is messy and uncoordinated and isn’t even lust. It is Ren clinging to him like a drowning man, it is Hux who does not fight, who lets himself be pulled down, until he is all but sprawled over the taller man. He pulls away to breathe, shifts as much as he is able, careful to spare the still sore chest wound, until he lies curled up between Ren and the wall. The Knight still hasn’t let go off him, holding him so close he is basically plastered against Ren’s side.

It is nice.

“I am so glad you are safe,” Hux whispers against his shoulder, and it makes Ren shiver.

“Hux…”

“You shouldn’t speak, Kylo,” he berates softly, purely for form. He has no desire to stop him from speaking, and is relieved to know that his request will be ignored.

“And you shouldn’t be here, General,” Ren retorts, the corners of his lips pulling up.” I know you are busier than that.”

“Continue like this and I just might leave.” He meant it as a joke, but Ren stiffens beneath him, so he hastily amends, “I did not mean that.”

Ren blushes, more out of embarrassment this time. “I… am very raw at the moment, General. Solo’s death did not have the impact I had hoped for, although as I said, you presence helps.” He swallows. “Your absence would stab be more surely than that girl’s blade ever could.”

The mention of the Scavenger darkens Hux’s mood considerably. He had underestimated her ; so had Ren. They have both paid for it. Although Ren will have to wear a mark that forever attests to his defeat.

Reaching out, Hux traces the edge of the scar. It is still red and swollen, although that will fade quickly enough. He wonders how it will look like when it does. Will it be a thin, almost indistinguishable line? Or a large mark that reveals just how brutal the fight was.

Either way would suit Ren, Hux thinks, it will make him look more fearsome.

That doesn’t mean he isn’t furious that the scar is there at all.

“I will have her killed for this,” he promises “I’ll let you do it. I’ll let you choose how.”

Ren closes his eyes as he leans into Hux’s touch. Revelling in the contact, ashamed of his own defeat, all of it contributes to making his voice sound small and fragile in response. “Would you watch?”

“With pride. With eagerness. My satisfaction would match yours.” His eyes harden, even as his caresses turn softer. “I will see her pay for harming what is mine.”

Ren smiles then, a quiet but intense joy animating his feature, making any trace of weakness fall away. He is still wounded, still incapable of leaving the bed, and yet he looks strong. His eyes open once more, and despite the sadness that still lingers in them they are full of gratitude as he whispers a promise of his own. “I will make them all pay for destroying what was yours.”

Hux’s face grows somber. The loss of Starkiller is a mighty blow, both for the First Order and for his own pride. The reminder is bitter so soon after the events, and Hux imagines it will be for a long time.

But they will recuperate. The First Order will come out of this stronger. This lost battle will fuel their resolve, will be used as a learning experience. In such a large and efficient machine, there will be no imperfection left uncorrected. Let the Resistance celebrate. Let them grow arrogant from their victory. 

The First Order’s victory will only be sweeter for it. 

They will win.

Ren and Hux, they will win.

“All in good time, then,” he says, he swears. He lays his head down so that it rests against Ren’s shoulder, eyes still looking straight ahead. “All in good time.”

They will need to get to work. Soon. Quickly. The time-table has shifted, circumstances have changed. They will need to plan.

Later.

For now, he lies on the too small cot, arms gingerly wrapped around a wounded waist. His limbs tangle with Ren’s, and it is uncomfortable. But long arms tighten around him in turn, a large hand comes to lie against his head. Fingers comb through his hair, and Hux can feel himself melt. Everything melts away, exhaustion and weariness and apprehension, the outside world and Hux’s own cramping muscles ; everything apart from Ren and his hands and the natural scent of his hair, which Hux had never noticed before but now carefully carves into his mind.

It smells nice - and oddly sweet.

“Hux.”

Ren says his name like a prayer, a promise, bringing two fingers to lift his chin so that the General’s meets his eyes. For the first time in forever, Hux sees peace and certainty in them. It echoes in the softness of his features, in the subtlety of his smile. 

“As you command,” he continues, deep voice filled with tenderness, but also impatience.

Hux chuckles, closing his eyes.

“So needy, Ren.”

**Author's Note:**

> So that was part two. Hope you enjoyed it! I apologize for any typo still present! Feel free to point them out, and I'll correct them straight away!
> 
> Since I have no self-control, I've signed up for the Kylux Big Bang, which means part three will take some time to come because I am starting a whole new fic for that occasion. Sorry for any disappointment that might cause!


End file.
